Flow of time is cruel but I have yet to forget you.
Too afraid of visiting stone monuments, where memories of you hide behind.
I only occupy my room, a room we once both occupied.

I read things I shouldn't.
I notice passages absent, lines blacked out like top-secret archives.
Anything positive now vanishing.

Sincere, heavy, and warm feelings have all dissipated.
Possessively overindulgent; even a timbre gentle white,
Goddess' voice could not alleviate my futile cynical mind.

Visceral note, I guiltily receive alone time to time.
A barbed birthday gift, spite still spilling from it.

Milk-skin and moon-eyed heroine of marvelous design,
Delusional ruin left behind;
She's all mine, I think.